The Time I Rented a House

One time, I decided to rent a house. I had been looking for a couple years, but never found anything that fit me perfectly. I would stay in decent hotels for a week or so, or fancy hotels for just one night. Sometimes I would crash at a place I used to stay in long ago, but most of the time I would stay at a friends house or had no place to stay at all. So I wandered around the country, looking for that perfect place I could call home.

            

And so I found it, I thought. The realtor and I talked about the place for a couple weeks; she showed me a picture or two and a short description. It sounded perfect! Possible long-term lease, newly remodeled, freshly cut grass and trimmed hedges, an addition to original house that really upped the value, and the prettiest outside color you’ve ever seen! It was the perfect size for one man to live in, not too small, but not big either… It was a newer house, not even 30 years old, but to the realtor’s knowledge it had been vacant for a couple years.

            

I didn’t think twice. From the moment I first saw the house in person I knew I had to have it. I couldn’t believe how well the house fit me. And it was a lease-to-own, what luck! Well, I took it, and about two weeks later, after staring at pictures multiple times a day, I finally had the chance to move in. Since I had been bouncing around from hotel room to hotel room and had not had a house in almost 3 years, I didn’t have too much baggage. And what I had, I put away neatly in my room. No need to clutter such a nice place. My first night sleeping in that house was pure bliss. I felt like it was meant for me. I was so comfortable, that within the next few weeks I started to spread around my artifacts from my room. A book of stories here, pictures there, a box of my most sacred items up on the mantle. I wanted to have my entire life on display in this house, because I was sure I would live in it for a long time. Those first two months were bliss.

            

It was not until a few months into my new situation that I first met the neighbors. They were nice, but a little quirky, and seemed to be having many problems in their own homes. I wasn’t quite sure why. They were nice enough, but not what I would have picked for my neighbors if I had the choice. I wasn’t worried though because I had many friends in their own homes in the area. Six wonderful months went by.

            

Everything was going great until one night, I came home to find the house’s architects sitting on my front porch. I was very happy to see them, as I wanted to share my love of the house with its’ builders. They didn’t seem as optimistic as I though, and told me, although I was a great tenant, that soon I would out grow the house and want a mansion. I couldn’t possibly see how. The one I was in was perfect, and I didn’t see how I could possibly be good enough for a mansion. They mentioned a few imperfections and some problems other tenants had had in the past. They had even lived in the house for 18 years, and it was always a slight struggle, however years 14-18 were particularly dicey. I chose to ignore their warnings and thanked them for everything as I walked into the house and shut the door. Interestingly enough, that night a closet door opened; one that I had never seen before. It was filled with interesting, some curious and some scary, items that past tenants had left. The closet was packed full of baggage, and when I went to poke at a bag, they all spilled out on the floor. I tried to stuff them back in the closet, but from that day forward I could only keep all the baggage in the closet for a day or two at a time. It had me completely baffled. How could I have not seen that closet before? And why would it not stay closed for more than a couple of days?

            

This went on for about a month until one night I came home from the local bar, trashed at 2am, feeling like a million bucks. The closet door was open again, but I ignored it and went straight to the bathroom. And wouldn’t ya know it, at the most inconvenient time, the plumbing happened to be broken. I couldn’t believe it! It wasn’t like I was going to go to another house’s bathroom, so I just went outside by myself. This continued off and on for the remainder of that cold month, but for some reason, it only happened late at night when I was drunk. I finally got fed up with this problem and went to stay at my friends for the weekend. When I came back the following Monday, the realtor had changed the locks. I was locked out of my own house! How could this have happened? I spent hours and hours working on the locks until finally I was able to get back in. But now for some reason, every other night when I would come home from dinner or drinks, I would have to fuss with the door for an hour or so, just so I could get some sleep. It was getting ridiculous.

             

Around this same time, I got a letter in the mail that the rent was raising. By 50% each month! And it also reminded me that if I were interested, a purchase offer would be accepted. I decided to stay in the house, even with the 50% increase in rent. I mean, where was I supposed to find a better place? All my friends loved my house, and I had put so much time and effort into becoming comfortable with it already. There was no way I could move. But I figured I needed a small vacation to think about my future in this place.

            

I came back a week later to a place that seemed to have been professionally touched up! The closet door was closed, grass and hedges trimmed perfectly, even a new coat of paint on the outside! I couldn’t believe it! I tried out the plumbing and it worked better than ever. It was like I had come back to my house, 2.0. Things were great for the next couple of weeks. I mostly stayed inside, rearranged all my belongings and even started to draft a letter to the realtor to extend my lease with intent to purchase. I was at the kitchen table finishing the letter when another guy wondered into the house. “Can I help you?” I asked. He said nothing, but turned around and walked back out. I thought it peculiar but paid no attention and continued to draft my letter.

            

After dinner one night with a friend, I came back to that same guy leaving my house. “Hey!” I yelled, “Come back here! What are you doing in my house?!” He took off sprinting, and I wasn’t able to catch him. I looked for clues all over my place but wasn’t able to find any. Just a few scuff marks that I had never noticed, and a pair of socks that I didn’t think were mine, but couldn’t be sure. So I stuck with my plan. I was all ready to send in the lease extension letter with my new 3-month required deposit when I decided to go out and have one or two drinks to think over this huge life decision.

            

There he was, sitting at my favorite bar. The guy I saw coming out of my house! I approached him, and after a little threatening, he admitted that he had been sleeping in my house off and on whenever I was away for the past month and a half. I couldn’t believe it, I asked how it started, and he said he showed up to a party at my place one weekend when I wasn’t there. I must have left a door open, and he walked right in. He told me the house looked lonely and he was too drunk to get home that night so he just stayed over, not really thinking anything of it. In the morning he ran out, so ashamed to have stayed over at someone else’s house, but after a few days he found himself drunk again, wandering over to my house, and with me gone again, he was able to let himself right in for a sleep over. This had become a more frequent thing in the past month and had started to include weekend stay-overs and even mid-day naps! All without paying any rent or having the pressures of extending the lease!

            

I couldn’t believe it, and couldn’t take it anymore. So I went home to pack up and leave. How could I continue sleeping in a house where someone else was crashing, rent free, whenever I was not around? Of course, I had to leave many of my pictures and memories inside. I stuffed them all in the closet with the other baggage. It was very difficult to leave, none of the doors would open, and the windows were all locked, but I eventually got out, leaving a large part of me behind in that house for the next tenant to deal with.

            

The realtor and I never did get along after that, I had to see her at random social functions, and she never would give me the time of day. I stayed with friends for months after moving out before crashing at my first hotel in well over a year, but it just didn’t seem right. Something was missing; there was no connection with the hotel room, nothing personal, no intimacy.

            

I still drive by that house every once in a while, wondering if I should stop in to see if anything has changed. It looks better than ever from the street. Every few months I’ll hear from a friend that a new tenant has moved in, but they don’t last long. I really loved that house, maybe I still do? But I’m now sure that someday I’ll be able to drive by that house on my way to my beautiful new mansion, and I won’t feel hatred anymore, but rather look at it as just another lesson learned in life. I’ll know that without that one-year lease, and all the short term rentals and extended hotel stays before it, I would have never learned all the lessons I needed to live out the rest of my days in a mansion.

WJNTY - Seth